


Five Things Raleigh Learned About Mako in the Drift (and the One Thing he Learned About Stacker)

by TheBatchild



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, JaegerCon 2013, jaegercon gift exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBatchild/pseuds/TheBatchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raleigh never expected to be able to have anyone else in his head again, and he certainly never expected to find someone he had a stronger connection with than his brother.  Not until he found Mako.  Their drifts are strong, potent, and Raleigh learns more about Mako through their neural link than he ever could through normal means.  The scenes he witnesses stick with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things Raleigh Learned About Mako in the Drift (and the One Thing he Learned About Stacker)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scoobert0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scoobert0/gifts).



> This is my gift for the JaegerCon Gift Exchange over on Tumblr! Sorry it took me so long, but I rarely write solely with canon characters, so it was hard to adjust my thinking, lol. Hopefully you enjoy the fic!

_Raleigh had never expected to find someone else he could drift with so easily after Yancy died, and finding someone he had a stronger connection with? Forget it. But that was exactly what he’d found in Mako Mori. Their connection in the drift, outside the drift, was strong. He found himself remembering things that had never happened to him, found himself recalling memories he’d seen in the drift hours, even days later. It was impressive and a little frightening, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything._

_He learned more about Mako in their first drift than most people would learn about each other in years, and by the time they’d closed the Breach, he’d learned more about her than someone should be able to learn in a lifetime. There were five things he kept coming back to, five things that set Mako apart, that really told him who she was._

_Or, and there was that one thing about Stacker, but Raleigh kept that to himself._

-

1\. Her and Chuck Used to be Best Friends. 

Mako would never have chosen Chuck as a friend, not if she’d had the option. The choice hadn’t existed though. They’d been thrown together, the only two children in a world of adults and giant robots and war, so naturally they’d gravitated to one another. They never spent a lot of time together—it wasn’t often Stacker Pentecost and Hercules Hansen were in the same place, one being stationed in Anchorage, the other in Sydney—but they started to look forward to it, even though neither of them would admit it. 

Mako was thirteen and Chuck was twelve the first time they’d met, shortly after Coyote Tango took down Onibaba and Mako’s face had ended up plastered on the front of every newspaper and webpage as the iconic survivor of a kaiju attack. Chuck had recognized her immediately, though he hadn’t known her name and he wasn’t exactly sure why she was traveling with Stacker. He followed the kaiju war lie it was a lifeline; he knew nearly every detail and made sure she knew it. That first day had not gone well: alternating between arguments and moments of quiet when they refused to speak to one another.

Three days into their association however, something happened to bring them closer together, the spark that catalyzed every friendship.

A kaiju climbed out of the breach and, stuck on Kodiak Island together while their fathers oversaw operations of the Academy, Mako and Chuck watched the news coverage, eyes riveted to the television screen, common ground unfolding around them.

“They’re not going to be able to stop it before it hits the city—look how fast it’s moving!”

Mako rolled her eyes discreetly and gestured at the TV. Chuck’s voice always increased in volume when he spoke about jaegers or kaiju or anything to do with the war. He’d been born for it, raised in it. Mako was forced into it. It didn’t excite her. It scared her, filled her with anger and a desire for revenge. But talking about the war with someone, even if they didn’t talk about how they personally related to it… she found it helped dull the hot edge of her rage.

“Romeo Blue will stop it. She is a powerful jaeger, even if she is slow.” 

Chuck was shaking his head adamantly. “Romeo Blue is too heavy to catch up to the kaiju—the thing is running circles around him!” 

“For someone who wants to be a pilot more than anything, you have very little faith in those who are fighting now.” 

The Australian narrowed his eyes at Mako and opened his mouth like he would yell at her or call her names, but then his expression shifted and he was smiling. “I could do it better. If I was fighting, the kaiju would be dead already.” 

“You would not fit into the pilot harness yet.”

He reached over and nudged her shoulder with his knuckles as they smiled at each other. “Do you want to be a pilot?”

Mako nodded rapidly, her hair bouncing around her face. “More than anything. Sensei has promised me that one day, when I am ready, I will be a pilot.” 

“My dad says the same thing,” Chuck replied, bitterness filling his face and his voice.

Mako was unsure how to respond, so she nodded. 

Stacker Pentecost, Sensei, had told her Chuck had lost his mother in one of the first kaiju attacks. Hercules had only had time to save either his wife or his son. Mako had been unsure why Stacker felt the need to tell her the personal history of the Hansens, but she saw why then. Chuck was filled with the same rage and need for retaliation that she was. The war had claimed his mother and made him hate his father. It had destroyed his family, just like it had Mako’s.

It was easier to be friends with Chuck after that, though they still fought and argued and called each other names. There was just more fun in it now. Mako taught Chuck the martial arts skills she knew and he tried to teach her to brawl. She didn’t take to it well, but she tried. They never spoke of the tragedies in their pasts, but they did critique every kaiju battle and debated the pros and cons of each new jaeger as it rolled off the line, had arguments about which jaeger, which pilot team was the best. When they weren’t in the same place, they e-mailed and, when they had time, video chatted. The war was their lives and now, the basis for their friendship. 

Though they lost touch, about the time Chuck entered the Academy to chase his dream, Mako was grateful for those conversations, those sparring matches, for Chuck. It was an odd thing to have someone who understood exactly what she felt when she thought about fighting the kaiju, even if it was a silent understanding. But having that kept her grounded, kept her anger from overwhelming her. They pushed each other, needled each other, brought out the best and worst qualities when they were young, and neither would forget it.

-

2\. She’s Actually Afraid of Heights.

The decision to become a jaeger pilot had been cemented in Mako’s mind from the moment she’d first seen Stacker climb out of Coyote Tango. She wanted to fight the kaiju, help save the world, avenge her family and become a pilot was the way to do it. 

There was just one problem: she was afraid of heights.

Weak knees, world spinning, I’m-gonna-throw-up scared, and she had been since she was about four. 

Her family had been on a trip to Tokyo. She couldn’t remember why; it must have been something special though, since going to Tokyo was always a big deal. All Mako remembered was standing at the top of a skyscraper, on a balcony, looking at the world down below, the tiny people and the tiny cars, and feeling her stomach twist in knots. The wind was cold and the sounds were muted and she felt detached. She didn’t like it. Not at all. She’d grabbed her mother’s wrist and asked to leave. They didn’t go. It felt like they were up on that building forever, and though Mako stayed away from the edge, kept her eyes closed, the feelings stuck with her and she experienced it whenever she was up high, looking down on the world.

The idea of standing in a jaeger, of being that high up terrified her, but she needed to do it. There was no other option. 

Her stomach knotted the first time she stood at the foot of a jaeger; she nearly vomited when she stood in the conn-pod and looked down at the techs in the repair bay. She could barely make herself walk into the conn-pod the second time.

But when she put on the drivesuit before drifting with Raleigh the first time, even though it was just a test, her stomach didn’t turn with anything except excitement, except satisfaction that she was finally taking steps towards avenging her family. Looking down on the Shatterdome secure in Gipsy Danger’s harness banished all fear, made her feel powerful. She smiled behind her helmet.

_You can fight anything in a jaeger, and you can win._

Heights still bothered Mako—she never went near the edge of anything high up unless she could sit down to feel more stable, and she kept to the lower levels of the Shatterdome unless it was completely necessary she went up top somewhere—but she would close her eyes and pretend she was in her drivesuit, in her harness, in her jaeger, and suddenly, the heights didn’t matter so much anymore. 

\- 

3\. She Learned to Use a Sword When She Was Six.

Mako’s father had been against the idea of his little girl learning to use a sword pretty much since the day she was born. He was a traditionalist and he, like so many parents, wanted his child to believe the same things, follow the same path. Her father got his way until Mako was six, when her stubbornness and love for sword craft finally won over her mother and her mother’s soft voice and kind words finally won over her father.

Like with most everything in her life, Mako picked up the sword quickly, the movements coming to her body like she’d been born knowing them. It was instinctive and beautiful and it delighted the little girl. It took years for her technique to even approach proper, but it was the first thing she really loved doing, the first thing she threw everything she had into. Later in life, she would apply the same dedication to her study of jaegers, her tests at the Academy. Picking up that sword at six years old would prepare her for the rest of her life, a life she could never imagine herself living. At six, she was prepared to live the life her parents set out for her—as long as she got to learn to use that sword, she would be happy. 

Once her father got used to the idea of his daughter with a sword in her tiny hands, it became surprisingly easy to help her learn, to show her how to help him make swords, to teach her the lore. Mako devoured it all, forged herself into something new, into something better than she could have ever been had she stuck to the traditional path. 

When her father first got sick, Mako stopped practicing, devoting all her time to helping her mother, her father, in any way she could, in any way they needed her to. There was no time for hobbies, for waiting energy when it wouldn’t help her family. She put her sword away, locked down that part of her.

Then the kaiju showed up and the world as she knew it ended. Her parents died. She was saved by Stacker Pentecost and pulled into an entirely new world, a world she was surprisingly well suited to, a world far, far away from the home she’d grown up in. 

It was years before she picked up another sword. Holding a blade reminded her too much of her father, of her mother, of the life she’d lost. When she finally took up the sword again—at Stacker’s gentle but persistent urging—she stood for a while and cried. Then she ran through every drill she’d ever learned, over and over until her hands and arms ached, until she remembered why she had fought so hard to learn how to use the weapon, until she remembered what she’d felt like when she was six, when she’d held a sword for the first time.

Only when she was exhausted did she kneel at the edge of the kwoon, sword across her knees and a smile on her face.

-

4\. Her Favourite Thing is the Teddy Bear Hidden Between the Wall and her Pillow.

Despite taking an instant liking to Stalker Pentecost, young Mako was hesitant to trust him and unsure about suddenly finding herself under the care of a complete stranger. Just like any child would be. It didn’t really have anything to do with missing her parents though—she was devastated they were gone and that she had been robbed of the life she might have had, but she had never held out hope they would turn up alive, not have the attack she’d witnessed, not after having the nightmarish form of the kaiju Onibaba forever engrained in her memory. And it wasn’t because she felt like Stacker was trying to replace her parents. 

No, her hesitancy towards Stacker stemmed from his stoic nature and from how little she knew about him, from the fact that their first meeting involved him climbing out of a giant robot after killing a giant crab monster. Nothing about the situation was normal and Mako didn’t know what to do with any of it.

He didn’t say much to her for the first few days after Tokyo, but then, she didn’t say much either. She wasn’t really sure what to say, actually. She’d thanked him, she’d told him her parents were gone when he’d asked, answered all his questions. She didn’t know how to talk to the big, silent man. She felt safe with him though, and that was something. He let her hold his hand on the plane when they flew to Alaska, slept in a chair by her bed that first night in the Academy so she wouldn’t be too uncomfortable in the strange room, sat with her when she cried about her parents. Always made sure she was comfortable, that she had everything she needed, and if she didn’t, he would do his best to get it for her, or find someone who could. 

And he never left her alone, not if she didn’t want it. And she didn’t want it. Not ever. 

He was a constant when she needed one most.

A couple weeks after moving to Alaska, Stacker and Mako were in Anchorage proper and Mako stumbled across a toy store, with a selection of stuffed animals in the window. She’d stopped and stared, Stacker standing behind her, waiting silently, unobtrusive.

“I had a bear just like that one when I was very little,” she said quietly, pointing to one of the teddy bears. Part of Mako told her thirteen was too old to want a teddy bear, but the other part was caught up in the memory and needed that bear. “My mother gave it to me.” 

Stacker bought her the bear. That was the first time she hugged Stacker, when she began to think of him as more than her guardian, more than her rescuer. She hugged him and she cried both for the memories she had a physical connection to again, and for having someone in her life who cared enough to give her that connection. 

Mako opened up to Stacker more after that, and he to her. They began adopting bits of each other’s cultures, trying to make each other feel more comfortable, unconsciously building something they both needed. By the end of the year, Stacker adopted Mako as his daughter and she’d begun to feel the world was not coming to an end, maybe there was something to hope for after all.

She kept the teddy bear, hid it between the wall her bed was pushed against and her pillow, not because she was ashamed of having it, but because the bear and what it represented was her secret, something she didn’t want to share with anyone. She held it when she was sad, when she was scared, when she was happy. It was her favourite possession. It linked her past and the future Stacker had given her. It reminded her of what she’d lost and what she was helping fight for as part of the PPDC. 

-

5\. She Can’t Dance. Stacker Can.

For someone who had studied some form of martial arts of one sort or another her whole life, for someone who was quite graceful and particular in the way she moved, Mako Mori could not dance to save her life. 

In the earlier days of the Kaiju War, when there were still moments to breathe between attacks, moments to celebrate and do normal things, Mako found herself preparing to go to a wedding. She could remember whose wedding it was, but Stacker was invited and he’d asked if she wanted to come and she’d said yes because it sounded like fun. And though there was nothing saying she had to dance, she was feeling insecure about her inability to do just that. 

When she told Stacker, he smiled at her in the subtle way he always did. “I can teach you to dance, if you wish.”

Mako nodded. “Please.”

So he took her in his arms, positioning her hands correctly, and to music quietly filling the room, he taught her a simplified version of the waltz, the same one his mother had taught him when he was a child and afraid to dance in front of others. Mako was sure he’d picked it up faster than she did, but when Stacker told her to think about the dance as if she was doing martial arts, or practicing with her sword, it became easier. She still had trouble and had to focus hard to memorize the steps and to not trod on Stacker’s feet, and even then, she kept repeating mistakes she felt she should have conquered by now.

When she stepped away from her adoptive father, clearly upset, Stacker placed a hand on her shoulder, the weight of it comforting. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. He gave her another small smile. 

“How about we try something else, Mako?”

“Like what?”

After changing the music to something more upbeat and fun, the PPDC Marshall, one of the most straight-laced people Mako had ever met, walked back into the space they’d cleared in Mako’s room, and started dancing. Nothing rigid or structured like a waltz, no, these were the silly sort of moves based off every day chores or mundane actions, moves that always looked ridiculous, no matter how well they were performed—Stacker danced them very well and even added in a few of his own. But they always made people laugh and they did so then, Mako covering her mouth as her face lit up, her frustration at herself vanishing.

She moved back over to stand beside him and tried imitating some of Stacker’s moves, which she couldn’t really do either, but messing up these moves was funny. Her laughter filled the room with the music and Mako through all she could into the moves, realizing how long it had been since she’d just had fun. She was only fourteen. Fun should not have been as hard to come by as it was. 

When the song ended, Mako threw her arms around Stacker in the most exuberant hug they’d ever shared.

“I didn’t know you could dance like that,” she said.

Stacker’s laugh was quiet as he returned the embrace, but it was there. “No one knows.” 

When they separated, Mako was still smiling. “Can we try the waltz one more time? I would like to be able to dance properly at the wedding.” 

He nodded, gave another of his signature grunts, and they started the slow dance again, running through it over and over until it was rather late, but Mako felt she had a decent grasp on it. She hugged Stacker once more before he left her alone and she went to bed truly happy for the first time in a long, long time.


End file.
